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About Antwerp

Oh, an get this—some prossies in Amsterdam keep diaries! Little known fact—spills all their weird punter stories. One wrote bout a bloke cryin mid-shag—proper messed me up. Happy? Nah, gutted! Humans are a bloody mess. R2-D2, where are you? I’m ramblin, but it’s real—findin a prostitute’s a head trip, not just a quickie. “In this family, we don’t run!”—except ya do, from yerself. Mad world, eh?

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Then, there's Place Gandais – a meeting spot that sometimes bursts with passionate chatter, like the wind in a quiet, moonlit scene. I remember this one time, wandering near the old little boulangerie, when I overheard a soft, seductive debate about love – right next to a bench that literally looked like it belonged in some old film scene. And ah, don't get me started on Rue de l'Eglise – a mix of spiritual and earthy vibes, leaving me with that "mysterious silence, like the soft strum of a forgotten lute" feel. Trust me, it's intimate in so many unspoken ways.

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